


do you miss him?

by imperialhare



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, one awkward blowjob and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14194407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialhare/pseuds/imperialhare
Summary: Hadrian had seen Samot in dreams, over and over, after returning to Velas. The boy-king, usually sitting in the same bedroom, at the same desk, but drinking from a different bottle of wine each time — eyes violet, and strands of blond hair falling into his face. He had a soft and husky voice, and he spoke like he knew a deep personal secret of yours that no one else was privy to.





	do you miss him?

Hadrian had seen Samot in dreams, over and over, after returning to Velas. The boy-king, usually sitting in the same bedroom, at the same desk, but drinking from a different bottle of wine each time — eyes violet, and strands of blond hair falling into his face. He had a soft and husky voice, and he spoke like he knew a deep personal secret of yours that no one else was privy to.

Hadrian realized, that was probably true. 

"I hope you won't deprive yourself of sleep, just to avoid me," Samot had said, during the first dream. "I'm not here to torment you."

Hadrian hadn't spoken, during that dream. But he'd drank from the wine glass that Samot had offered him.

It had taken him several dreams to even have the presence of mind to speak to Samot, and he was troubled to find that he was even beginning to look forward to those dreams — wasn't he a loyal church man? Devotee of the Once and Future King? During the day it seemed straightforward, to say to himself that when Samot came to him he would ask him to stop — but when night came that dream-bedroom was warm and intimate, and the wine was exquisite. Samot had a melodic laugh, and often he would absentmindedly touch Hadrian's hands, and Hadrian's skin would tingle at the point of contact — 

"Hadrian?"

It was the same room as always. Hadrian found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. He still couldn't bring himself to say Samot's name, so he only nodded in response.

"I thought it was about time for you to arrive. Were you thinking of me?" Samot smiled, and poured out a second glass of wine for Hadrian. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Hadrian accepted the glass when Samot pressed it into his hands. The room smelled vaguely of roses.

"Hadrian," Samot said, swirling the wine in his own glass, "we've been getting along, haven't we?"

Hadrian brought the glass to his lips. The wine was sweeter than usual, and had a certain cloying effect. "Sure."

"Then," Samot said, slowly, his eyes violet in the candlelight, "would you let me show you a good time?"

And without waiting for a reply, Samot moved to sit next to Hadrian, and placed his hands on Hadrian's face to turn it to meet his own. Hadrian dropped his glass when Samot kissed him. Samot wasn't quick about it, but lingered on Hadrian's initially unresponsive lips. Samot had had his eyes closed at first, but Hadrian could see him open them slightly, and through his pale lashes there was — was it possible, for a god? — a tinge of desperation there that Hadrian felt obligated to respond to. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the back of Samot's head and attempted a return kiss in earnest, and found that Samot's mouth was soft and tasted sweet like the wine, and that he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of going further.

"Thank you," Samot murmured. "Will you take my robe off?"

Hadrian nodded — barely more than an incline of the head — and with not entirely steady hands undid the sash of Samots' robes, then slipped it off the boy-king's shoulders. Samot was certainly beautiful — with his unblemished skin, his lithe and graceful body, and all the good looks of an ethereally dashing young man — yet still, Hadrian wondered if he could really appreciate him fully. Hadrian felt two entirely different sources of guilt there, but Samot kissed him again before he could ruminate too long.

"Look at me," Samot said. "I want you to focus on me right now."

Hadrian looked. Of course he had been attracted to Samot, that seemed to just be part of Samot's aura...

"Let me be more candid," Samot said. He made a strange gesture with his hand, and Hadrian had to bite back a gasp as his clothes were magically whisked off his body. "I want you to fuck me tonight."

*

"May I?" Samot asked. His face was mere inches from Hadrian's groin, which was already overwhelming enough.

Hadrian attempted to nod, or do anything, but he wasn't sure he was still in control of his body. Still, he seemed to have gotten the signal across — Samot leaned forward and took Hadrian's still-soft dick into his mouth, gazing up at Hadrian through his eyelashes while trying to get him hard. Hadrian shuddered and gasped — Samot was working him slowly and purposefully with his tongue, and pleasure that Hadrian was not entirely comfortable with was pulsating out through his body. He didn't know if he wanted to pull Samot away or push himself deeper into Samot's mouth, but his hand wandered to rest on top of Samot's head.

Samot made a small noise of approval. He'd seemed nervous earlier but his movements were almost languid now, and he slid his mouth off so slowly that there was an audible pop when he released Hadrian's cock. "Does it feel good?" Samot murmured, stroking Hadrian with his free hand.

"Mmm."

"You have a lovely... ah, but you're shy about compliments." Samot smiled, and took the tip of Hadrian's dick back into his mouth. Hadrian gasped aloud when Samot began to swirl his tongue over the head, reflexively clenching his fingers in Samot's hair. He panted, trying desperately not to actually thrust into Samot's mouth as the boy-king pushed his tongue against the opening at the tip of his cock. 

He was edging closer to release — he wanted the warmth of Samot's mouth around the rest of him, and tried to press forward, in the hopes that Samot would deign to give him that — but Samot pulled away again after a moment. He paused to wipe the side of his mouth with his hand, then smiled at Hadrian and opened his mouth to show him the viscous precum pooled on his tongue before very deliberately swallowing.

Hadrian felt himself flush deeper than before, his entire face hot with embarrassment and arousal. Samot smiled at him again, and Hadrian noticed, acutely, the flush on Samot’s cheeks — how his lips were a little redder — 

"Do you want me to finish you off here, or..."

Hadrian shook his head. "You, um, wanted..."

"Are you alright with that?"

"I... think so."

Samot smiled again, this time less slyly and more with genuine relief. "Thank you, Hadrian. Please, sit back. I'll..." He let out a small laugh, and glanced aside before making eye contact again. "I'll ride you."

Hadrian repositioned himself on the bed, and Samot quickly followed, straddling Hadrian's waist. Hadrian found that he was bold enough to touch Samot now, cautiously running his hands down Samot's sides before settling them on his waist. 

"You're a good-looking man, Hadrian," Samot said softly, smiling and squeezing Hadrian's hand. "You even remind me of... ah, but I shouldn't say.”

Hadrian could hardly begin to comprehend the implication of that, but he heard the bittersweet tone of Samot’s voice, and simply turned his hand over to wrap his fingers around Samot’s hand. Samot glanced down, startled, before leaning and kissing Hadrian again, grip tight as he laced his fingers through Hadrian’s — this time a little more desperate, and Hadrian had to wonder at what Samot held inside him that led him here, trying to seduce the paladin of another god —

“Will you ever be mine, I wonder,” Samot murmured, his lips hardly an inch from Hadrian’s.

It was difficult, for Hadrian to bring himself to speak. But he managed, even as Samot settled against him languidly and pushed his fingers through Hadrian’s hair, a look of fascination on his face that Hadrian could not understand. “What… what do you mean?”

“You pride yourself on being a man of Samothes,” Samot said. “His loyal knight, his warrior, his sword… But what do you know about Samothes, really? Have you seen his face, his eyes? Have you felt his love?”

A hot rush of defensiveness rose in Hadrian. “I’ve felt him — the day I — when I received my name, my title —”

“Of course. Of course,” Samot said, his tone suddenly soothing, placating. “I didn’t mean to call that into doubt. That isn’t what I meant.” There was a moment’s silence as Samot regarded him, words on his lips but almost too heavy to speak. Samot turned suddenly and reached for his glass of wine where it stood on the night-table, took a heavy sip from it. Hadrian inclined his head when Samot pushed the glass to his mouth as well, allowing Samot to tip that bittersweet liquid into his parted lips.

Samot wiped the wine from his mouth with the back of his hand, a sly smile crossing his lips now. “I’ve felt him too, Hadrian — his lips on mine, his hands on my hips — ah, you know he was a blacksmith, a craftsman, of course. His hands would take me apart. Do you understand?”

“No,” Hadrian said, even though his body responded to Samot’s words, the heat rising in him at Samot’s description of Samothes moreso than anything Samot had done to him before that moment. Samot could sense that, he suspected, as he watched Samot’s expression change just the slightest, his eyes watching Hadrian closely.

“Touch me like he touched me,” Samot murmured. “I think you may find yourself closer to your god this way.”

Hadrian tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. “What… What was he like?”

Samot smiled. “Tall, broad, and dark… Powerful, but quiet in his power. A pillar of a man. He bore the responsibility of other people’s safety on his shoulders with dignity. Much like yourself.”

“Is that so,” Hadrian replied. It was an overwhelming amount of information to receive, and he wondered desperately if Samot’s words were true — would it matter if they were, or if they weren’t?

“Please, Hadrian,” Samot murmured. Hadrian ran his hands down to Samot’s thighs, parted them, pulled Samot close to him as he touched him there, a little hesitantly — Samot sighed with pleasure all the same, pressed in closer. Hadrian’s thoughts were filled with whether Samothes would do this, if Samothes had felt Samot tremble against him, his slender frame in his arms. “It feels good,” Samot murmured. “You can be rougher — if you want.”

“Would… would Samothes?”

Samot raised his eyebrows, then let out a short laugh. “Is that what you want to hear? No, I’ve set myself up for this — yes, he would be, if I asked for it. It was not in his nature otherwise.”

“I — I want you to have that again,” Hadrian blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“You seem — lonely.”

There was a long pause between them as Samot’s face went blank. Hadrian couldn’t read him, but the edge of panic crept into his mind. “I’m… I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn—”

“You pity me.”

Hadrian suspected from Samot’s tone that he shouldn’t answer, but it was true — he had seen the sadness in Samot’s smile before, and understood it more acutely now that he knew that Samot had once loved Samothes — still loved him, perhaps? Were they the same, then, both seeking Samothes in different ways — is that why Samot had come to him?

“I am… loyal to him,” Hadrian said, after a while. “He might reward you too, if you were—”

“This isn’t about Samothes,” Samot replied, anger creeping into his voice. But he looked as if he was having trouble convincing himself that it was true. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This isn’t about — this is about you, Hadrian, this is—” He pushed away from Hadrian, a scowl marring his elegant features. “I told you too much. I should make you forget—”

He raised a hand to Hadrian’s temple, but Hadrian pulled away. “Please don’t.”

Samot gazed at him impassively for a moment, hand held limply in the air, before his expression softened. “That’s the first thing you’ve asked of me all this time. Very well. Keep your memories.” He sighed, and stood up, a dressing robe whisking itself out of thin air into his hands when he reached for it. “You don’t desire me at all, do you, Hadrian?”

“That isn’t true,” Hadrian replied, immediately.

“Ah, but it isn’t enough, either.” Samot shook his head as he covered himself up again, tying the robe at his waist. “I’ll take my leave of you now.”

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

“What about Samothes?”

“What of Samothes? He won’t treat you well, Hadrian.”

“Do you miss him?”

Samot sighed again. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

And then the dream dissolved, and Hadrian woke up. He was alone in his bed — it was morning, and Rosana had probably woken up and started the day mere minutes ago, the bed still slightly warm on her side. Hadrian got up and opened their wardrobe to see Samot's cloak neatly folded up there. It would protect him, Samot had said, during one of his dreams over wine and candlelight. Hadrian thought, someday he would go to the City of Light and meet Samothes. And then he would give Samothes the cloak and ask him if it was in his heart to forgive Samot, whose loneliness seemed a deep and wide river. And because Samothes was generous, it would move him. That was what he could do to help Samot.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @imperialhare where I'm constantly yelling about how hadrian is a walnut


End file.
